


Bad News

by katsukii



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M, kinda just grell being grell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukii/pseuds/katsukii
Summary: A multichapter fic set in the Red Butler Arc. Grell just really likes the ecstasy that Sebastian brings.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Bad News

A reaper’s job was, at best, cut and dry.

There was no fun to be had in the day to day harvesting of poor, unfortunate souls. It was all the same routine: hunt and kill, hunt and kill. Watch cinematic records, try to pretend they’re interesting. Lose interest, wish the job demanded actual fun.

Grell Sutcliff loathed the monotony.

He craved a challenge, craved something that would make his blood boil in his veins. He wanted to feel the rush of battle, the adrenaline surging through his body like wildfire, igniting his nerves into pops of color and ecstasy; he wanted to feel alive again, wanted it so badly he would break any rule - or person - to get there. No human could give him what he so desperately sought for; no reaper either, for that matter, the lot was too uptight and stringent, never deviating from their duties. He knew of only one who pushed him to his limits, only one who excited his dead emotions once again.

Michaelis.

Oh, to dance in battle with that man! To cross weapons and clash fists with that horrid, lovely butler! The thought alone was enough to make Grell’s lips pluck into a smile. When they fought, it was truly a spectacle, a show, to all who might watch. It was a sanguine battle dance, knives, teeth, laughter. There was danger, there was uncertainty, there was entertainment. Oh, to engage in combat with Sebastian Michaelis!

Yes, that was the pinnacle of living. Grell swayed on his feet, lips upturned, eyes half lidded. His hands clasped together, lithe fingers weaving their way in with one another; yes, oh yes, to dance with Sebastian Michaelis was a true gift. He giggled in hiccupy cadences, fluttering his eyelashes to a mirror’s image of himself as he swayed about, skin crawling with the itch to fight. Sebastian was a drug of the worst kind; he was beautiful, but he was cruel, he was proper, but he was so downright unfair that it pained Grell’s heart. Oh, to think of the nasty, despicable things he could do to that man. Grell thought he would quite like to chew his way under Sebastian’s skin with those razor sharp teeth of his.

Yes, those teeth. Grell dropped his hands to his sides, traced a finger over the fine teeth of his death scythe. They were beveled to only the finest of edges, a hail of blades that cut cut any skin to ribbons, even tough demon-hide. He so loved his weapon, such a beautiful creation of his own doing, such a pinnacle reflection of his personality and his strength that it nearly made him swoon. Oh, to imagine tearing into Sebastian’s perfect porcelain skin with such a beauty of a tool! His body trembled with excitement; his hands quivered as he hefted the weapon into his grasp.

The hunt was on. He wore a wide, toothy grin as he sashayed out into the dim alleyways of the London streets, coat drawn up high over his shoulders. Where there was Jack the Ripper, there was that Phantomhive boy. And where he was, there was Michaelis.

Grell snickered to himself. It was time for some entertainment.


End file.
